Denmark was drinking on his couch watching football highlights of his team vs England's on his flatscreen TV while Norway and Iceland were sitting at the small dining room table playing chess.
It was unusually quiet at the Dane's house that night except for his occasional cheering at the television and his sporadic "Woo! Did ya see that move, Nor? It was sick!" gesturing his beer bottle towards the players on the television.
"Hm," Norway would reply, never looking up from the chessboard. No part of him moved except his stony eyes as he carefully scanned the board then he moved his black pieces in the spots that he deemed fit.
Iceland groaned at his brother's strategic moves. This was their third game, and he hadn't won a single round. Just when he thought he was finally about to win a game of chess against his big brother, Norway dominated the board, eliminating his every next possible move to victory.
After thoroughly analyzing every piece on the board, he let out a small gasp when he finally found the ultimate winning move that would once and for all take Norway down. As he picked up his white queen to checkmate Norway's king, a loud thud banged against Denmark's front door, startling all three of them. It happened again then a large boot kicked it open, almost off its hinges.
A low feral noise growled throughout the room as a tall figure dressed in a thick black fur cloak and chainmail staggered through the doorway. A leather belt that held a throwing axe and many daggers, hung sloppily off the man's waist, almost falling to his knees. On the man's head was a brass helmet that covered the top half of his face. In one hand, he brandished a gleaming gigantic sword and in his other, a half-empty bottle of Swedish vodka.
"ESTONIA!" he roared, charging through the door with his sword raised and ready to strike, but his weapons belt fell around his feet causing him to trip. The room shook as he fell hard and face down onto the hardwood floor.
"Wait—" Denmark peered from his hiding place behind the couch. "Sve? What the hell, man! What're you doin'?"
A pained groan came from the pile of man on the floor. "Es-tonia…" he slurred, slowly trying to get up. "I've c-come t' take Finland back…He's mine."
"Estonia? Why would he be here?"
"Fin's at 'is house."
"Are ya not wearin' your glasses, bro?"
"They don't f-fit in m' helmet," he swayed to his hands and knees, and his helmet fell off with a clang. His sweaty hair was plastered to his flushed face, and his glassy blue eyes were bloodshot.
"Hate to break it to you," Norway walked over. "But this isn't Estonia's house."
Sweden's glazed-over eyes floated around his familiar surroundings. "Shit…went th' wrong way."
"Hold on—" Norway realized. "—did you walk all the way over here like that by yourself?"
The man didn't respond as he tried to reach for the spilled vodka bottle on the floor. It brushed against his fingertips, but sadly rolled further away, escaping his limited reach.
It took all three of them to lift the drunk man off the floor. He smelled like straight vodka and his skin and fur cloak were damp with sweat. Underneath his chainmail, he was wearing a blue dress shirt and work slacks.
"Ya look like shit, buddy," Denmark said, closing the front door then retrieving the vodka bottle on the floor that rolled away. "What's goin' on?"
Sweden steadied himself against the door. "Finland went t' Es-tonia's house…for th' s-stupid Wife-Carrying compet-tition. S' been gone all week.."
Denmark finished off the rest of the liquor in the bottle then belched loudly. "The what?"
"Oh, I've heard of that," Iceland chimed in. "It's like an obstacle course where the, um, spouse carries the other spouse on their back."
"For real?"
"Yeah. It looks very strange. And the prize is the wife's weight in beer."
Denmark whistled. "That's a lot of beer!"
From his back pocket, Sweden pulled out a small, crumpled-up photo of Estonia that was ripped on one side. The photo was originally of Fin and Estonia at last year's competition that Finland had kept on his office desk. They were arm in arm, standing over five kegs of beer. Fin smiling and Estonia winking smugly at the camera.
Sweden had ripped the picture in half, keeping only the side with Estonia's annoying face on it to help fuel his fiery hate and determination to retrieve Fin back all the way from his house— even though he drunkenly stalked in the wrong direction. He stared at the photo, getting angry all over again. "Every year he goes…they compete n' win together..Even now that we live together, he doesn't want me t' join."
"Hey, I found it! Last year's competition!" Denmark shouted.
He had pulled out his phone and googled the previous year's competition. Norway and Iceland leaned over his shoulder and watched the video he found of Estonia and Finland crossing the finish line. Just as Iceland had described, Finland was hanging strangely upside down and backwards on Estonia's back with his ass in the air and his legs hanging over Estonia's shoulders. The crowd cheered as Estonia sprinted across the finish line first, Lithuania with Poland cursing on his back coming in second behind them. Estonia looked strong and proud as he lifted his fists in victory then gave Fin a little victory pat on the bottom prompting a happy giggle from the "wife" on his shoulders.
"This is crazy!" Denmark laughed, closing his phone. "Didn't know Estonia had it in him!"
"I'll have 'is head," Sweden growled then he slammed the photo of Estonia against the front door then thrusted a sharp dagger through it.
"Yo! Easy on the interior! You'll be makin' me another door if ya keep breakin' this one!" Denmark rushed towards Sweden as he tried to open the door, but Denmark caught him by the arm. "Oh no ya don't, big guy. You're gonna drown in the Baltic tryin' to get back on your own." Relieved that Sweden did not try to fight him, he guided him towards the couch. "Sober up here a little first."
As Sweden unceremoniously landed on the couch, he produced another bottle of liquor from the depths of his sweaty cloak, snapping off the lid then guzzled it.
"Don't you think you're overreacting a bit?" Norway sat on the couch's armrest next to Sweden. "It's just a silly competition."
"I don't know, Nor," Denmark said trying to grab the bottle from Sweden, but he snatched it back before the Dane could take it. "If I saw you dangled over the shoulders of another guy like that, I'd be ready to fight too."
Iceland carefully sat on the floor at Sweden's feet. He had never seen the usually calm and even-tempered man like this before. It was unsettling. "Why doesn't he invite you to do it, Sve?"
Sweden sucked in a hesitant breath before admitting, "We have before…but I dropped 'im once. Was embarrassin'."
Denmark inconsiderately howled with laughter which prompted a murderous side-glare from Sweden, but his glare quickly dissipated into shame, and he hid his face in his hands.
"Geez!" Denmark wiped a tear from his eye. "Didn't know little Fin was that heavy."
"Was my first time," Sweden muttered, taking another deep drink from the bottle. "We didn't make it t' the next round. Finland didn't say, but I knew he was upset because it was 'is first time losin'."
"So you've been drinking and brooding all week because you're jealous of Estonia," Norway said callously, but there was a hint of sadistic amusement in his voice. "And that there might be a high probability that he and Finland are consummating their victories like a true husband and wife?"
Sweden let out a miserable groan.
"Way to make em' feel better, Nor." Denmark patted Sweden on the shoulder. "Don't listen to him. I'm sure that's not what's happenin' at all. Fin's crazy about ya!"
Sweden took a dagger from his belt, turning it so that the pointed steel of the blade was between his index and middle finger. "He always looks much happier with 'im than me. They laugh freely together, n' they have a much better history than us," he hurled the dagger across the room at the front door where it struck the picture of Estonia, pinning him in the shoulder. "He's not scared of 'im either."
"Well look at you!" Denmark finally took the bottle of liquor and got a sip before Sweden snatched it back. "I almost pissed myself seein' ya burst through my door. Ya know, your gun would've been easier and quicker to take him down with than your sword. Haha—"
Denmark made a strange noise as Norway threw the wooden chessboard at his head. "Now look who's not helping to make him feel better," he turned his attention back to Sweden. "When will Fin return?"
"Tomorrow," he replied, thrusting another dagger into the photo, this time hitting Estonia in the chest.
Norway rolled his eyes. "Honestly Sve, did you really think vikining him back while making a complete ass of yourself was the right way to approach this? This is so out of character for you. Imagine what Fin would have thought if he saw you in this condition."
"What would you 'ave done then?"
Denmark recovered with a smirk. "If it were me, I wouldn't have even let Norway go in the first place!" He swiped a dagger from Sweden's belt then carefully aimed it at the picture on the front door. "Say, we should have one of those competitions here!" He launched it and it struck Estonia in the right eye. He grinned triumphantly. "I totally wouldn't drop ya, Nor!"
Norway scoffed. "Just as Sverige has no right to interfere with Fin's platonic affairs, you could never stop me from doing whatever I wanted either, Dane." He grabbed a dagger from Sweden's belt. "And there's no way in hell I would ever let you pick me up like that." He flung it effortlessly from his two fingers, striking Estonia in the other eye. Denmark shivered, half aroused and half in fear, at Norway's knife-throwing prowess.
Iceland carefully slipped a dagger from Sweden's belt and looked it over for a second. "Sve, if I know Finland like everyone else, he wouldn't do anything to hurt or betray you, and if he wasn't happy with you, I'm sure he's mature enough to tell you," he slowly aimed at the photo. "You'll just have to trust him." He threw it, and with a loud thud his dagger struck Estonia in the forehead. Norway placed a proud hand on his shoulder prompting him to quietly blush.
"Yeah bro! Some silly contest doesn't mean shit!" Denmark flopped on the couch next to Sweden and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "C'mon, stay with us tonight and try to forget about everythin', and if ya still want to split Estonia's head open in the mornin', we won't stop ya!"
Sweden was too exhausted and drunk to refuse. The rest of the night was terribly loud as they tossed back more liquor and hidden daggers and axes at Denmark's broken front door. Sweden finished another bottle of vodka and attempted two more times to leave only to be held down by Denmark and threatened by Norway before finally passing out on the couch. During the ruckus, Iceland texted Finland a picture of Sweden in his disgraceful Viking gear.
You might want to come get him on your way back tomorrow, the message read.
Fin let himself in through Denmark's front door when he arrived the next morning and saw it was splintered and almost off its hinges. All four Nords were sleeping in the living room. Sweden along with Denmark were sprawled out on one couch while Norway and Iceland slept huddled together on the other.
When he had received Ice's text the previous night, he wasn't very surprised at the picture he saw. Before he left, he figured that Sweden might have been a little upset that he was leaving to visit Estonia and compete in the contest, but now seeing him in person, reeking of vodka and passed out drunk in his centuries-old battle clothes with his sword laying on the table, he was definitely more than a little upset.
In their first time entering the competition together two years prior, Sweden had made it more than halfway through the obstacle course, but he fell and dropped Fin in the mud causing them to lose the round. He never blamed Sweden for their loss. Carrying another person on a rigorous obstacle course was difficult, and it was his first time competing. Despite their loss, he had a fun time, but now he knew that Sweden never recovered from that embarrassing spectacle.
He approached Sweden and gently nudged him awake.
"F-fin?" Sweden sat up, wincing, and holding his head while trying to focus his vision on the blurry figure standing in front of him.
"Yup. It's me," he smiled gently. "I see you all had fun last night."
Sweden looked at the mess they had made then down at himself, slowly recalling his previous night's behavior then shoved off his hot cloak in embarrassment. "Yeah."
They sat in silence for a moment, listening to Denmark snore.
"Are you ok?" Fin finally spoke.
"Fin, sorry I dropped ya," Sweden murmured. "After all this time, I truly feel like I failed ya."
Finland shoved Denmark over and made a spot for him to sit next to Sweden. "You don't have to keep apologizing. I was never upset about that. I still had so much fun with you, honest," he grinned. "But I also want you to know that Estonia is my dear friend, and this competition is just a fun tradition for us, but it means nothing more than that. And I apologize if I hurt your feelings not inviting you."
Sweden sighed. "I know. I was just bein' foolish. I'm sorry for makin' ya worry and spoilin' your fun," he held Fin's hand. "But I'm glad you're back."
Fin laced his fingers between Sweden's. "I'm glad to be back too. Let's go home."
Sweden carefully tried to lift himself off the couch but found it impossible due to the pain in his head and body.
Fin giggled. "Hey, if you want, we can compete together next year and this time, I can carry you. I don't mind," he winked and flexed a strong bicep at him.
A small content smile appeared on Sweden's lip. "Yeah, sure."
Fin got up, turned around, and squatted in front of Sweden.
"Here, hop on!"
The hungover man wrapped his arms over fin's shoulders then the smaller man carefully hoisted him on his back and easily carried him out the front door, ignoring the photo of his long-standing friend with the many daggers and a throwing axe sticking out of it.